Walking the Wasteland
by QuotethTheRaveneth
Summary: One should never walk these roads alone. A series of oneshots. Some romantic and some not so much. Characters will include Amata, Arcade, Cass, Charon, Ian, Miria, Tandi, Tycho, and Veronica.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I came up with the idea for this story while I was playing the first Fallout. I decided that I would make a series of oneshots based around my favorite companions and NPCs from all the games. Some of them will be romantic where as some of them will just be small excerpts from the main characters adventures. This particular oneshot was obviously inspired by the quest A Night to Remember from the Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. I hope you guys enjoy the story and please follow, favorite, and review._

**Rose of Sharon Cassidy**

The sun beat down, the sand blew in the hot wind, and to Damon, Savior of Goodsprings and Laser Gunner, even if he wasn't entirely confident about the savior situation, both were a greater burden than all the conductors, fission batteries, food, armor, and assorted weapons that were actually burdening his loyal follower, Cass. She strolled three steps behind him as he stumbled along to Novak. They traveled in complete silence, hers was shameful while his was merely mute in pain.

Aside from his throbbing headache, this was nothing new. Having lost half his memory and with no direction in his life, Damon had been called a fool more often than a hero, and Cass quite obviously knew it. She followed him willingly and happily and in a manner that made him feel like he didn't deserve her.

He'd thought that she would grow a liking to him, even just a tiny bit. Given the way that the day had started, he knew that this was as far away as the distance between the DC Ruins and New Vegas.

It was a miracle that he spotted the dinosaur that marked their destination, and he managed to gain the energy to walk at a faster pace.

He limped into town, and went to the nearest resident to ask for directions. He'd just tapped on the man's shoulder when he opened his mouth and bellowed at Damon.

"You! You've got a lot of nerve approaching me!"

"Oh, shit…" Damon muttered under his breath.

"What's your excuse, huh?!"

Cass pressed her hand over her mouth to hide her smile as the man yelled at her leader; Damon glared at her. Of all the things to laugh at, he thought.

"Could you stop yelling for a second?" Damon offered.

"Fuck you!" was his colorful answer, even louder than his first remark making Damon press his fingers to his temples. "You don't even feel sorry, do you? My poor Martha is out there, hot and afraid, and you're the one that kidnapped her and sold her to those Khan idiots."

Damon suddenly felt very thirsty. "What did I do? I swear, I can't remember a thing!" Maybe Cass' opinion of him was more on the dot than he thought.

"I'll never be able to recover the merchandise that brahmin lugged around."

"Brahmin…?" he let out a short sigh. "Thank God. I thought I'd done something so horrible."

"You _have _done something horrible, asshole!"

"Shut your damn mouth!" the hungover courier hollered, and instantly regretted it when a pain shot up to his temples. He quieted down. "Listen, did I mention anything about a guass rifle or something? Or better yet, where I've been?"

"I don't know. Maybe if you bring my brahmin back, I'll tell you."

Damon just stared at him, eyes bloodshot and his breath still smelling of whatever booze he'd poured generously down his throat the night before. He usually looked decent, but today he looked like a rabid dog.

"Are you sure you want to do this right now?" he growled.

"There's no need for violence! Okay, all you said was that you had to make it up to Sunny Smiles in Goodsprings, something about her grandmother's wedding ring."

"Sunny? Sunny thinks I'm getting married? Maybe I did marry someone…" he inspected his hands for a sign, but saw no wedding ring on any of his fingers. "This is fucking terrible. Damn it, I didn't even get her a dog to replace Cheyenne yet." And now he might have unintentionally screwed things up with the beautiful ranger. As if his hangover wasn't bad enough.

The traveling merchant was still staring at him aggressively and Damon hung his head low, "I'll go get your brahmin," he sighed. "I guess that it's the least I can do for selling her in the first place."

Cass groaned, adjusted her backpack, and followed behind him up the hill.

It wasn't a spectacular fight. Damon tried to reason with the Khans as he approached them at their camp, but they didn't care for reasoning and the Laser Gunner had to reach for his plasma pistol.

After the battle, the brahmin nuzzled Damon's face as he collected some dog meat off the bodies - probably wouldn't prove very useful, but they needed all the food they could get. Still, the meat looked particularly sickening today, warm and rotting.

"Uhh.." Damon groaned. "Would you put this in your pack?" He held it out to Cass.

She sighed and swiped the meat from his hand. "I guess…"

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" He looked at her from under his mop of black hair. "I'm having the worst day of my entire life, well, besides the day I got shot, but all you do is sigh. If being my partner is so horrible, you can just leave and go back to the Mojave Outpost."

Cass thought about it before speaking up. "Can I speak my mind real quick?"

"You could punch me for all I care."

"I would just like to say that this 'worst day of your life' is totally your own fault. Every time I was about to doze off, your drunk dumb ass would slap me and drag me off to some disease infested motel in the middle of the desert," she knit her brows together. "I don't remember you ever stealing a fucking brahmin. I hope to God that I slept through the wedding, if a woman would be stupid enough to marry you," she pinched the bridge of her nose. "It feels like this shit's been going on for days. I'd wake up and we'd be somewhere else or-" she shook her head. "Nevermind, forget it. You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out without me. Don't worry about your stuff, I'll leave it in your hotel suite in the Lucky 38."

And with that final statement, she turned and stomped off, leaving him to deal with this mess alone.

It took him until midnight to get back to Goodsprings. That mostly had to do with him stopping to think about what he would say to Sunny. Unfortunately for him, it was hard to make an excuse when he wasn't even sure about what he had done in the first place. He'd bought the wedding ring from her. How could he be so stupid? She probably wouldn't speak to him at all.

"I'm never going to drink again," he'd sworn to himself for the hundredth time.

The moon shown brightly above him when he made it to Goodsprings. If he was lucky, he could go to bed and not have to worry about Sunny until tomorrow.

When he got closer to the saloon, he saw a figure sitting in the chair next to the door, that wasn't Easy Pete, arms crossed, waiting for him.

Cass.

He walked up next to her and stopped.

"You don't stink of whiskey anymore," she remarked.

"I took a shower at that motel in Novak," he informed.

She unfolded her arms and tossed something into the air at him. It arced high into the air, glinting from the porch light, before he caught it. A silver ring. A _wedding _ring.

Damon raised his eyebrows.

Cass shrugged, crossing her arms again. "I talked to Sunny and found out where the wedding was supposed to be. Then I set out and got the ring back for you."

"Wait, so, who did I marry?"

Cass snorted. "Some Nightkin in a bunker a little ways east of here."

Damon felt his face get red then grunted. "You talked to Sunny?" Damon questioned.

Cass let his mind wonder for a few more awkward seconds.

"I told her a story full of misunderstanding and misguided love, leaving her misty eyed and ready to mend your poor broken hearted soul."

He was slack jawed for a moment before he broke out with a grin. "I didn't realize you cared, Cass," he gently teased.

"I know, I'm surprised to. But you weren't meaning to hurt anyone, and I know you're going to be traveling across New Vegas making things right somehow. Which is something to be praised for; not very many people even give a shit. And honestly, I should've kept my eyes open so I could stop you from being an idiot. You weren't acting like a leader should, but I wasn't acting like a companion should."

"So, are we partners again?" he offered out his hand.

She shook it firmly. "Of course. What's the plan?"

"I'm gonna find Sunny and give her this ring back," he said. "Then we're gonna find those mercenaries and that guass rifle, and we're gonna shoot them with it."

Cass laughed. "Now we're talking!"

Damon had never heard her laugh before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Charon**

Charon knew that he would've never talked to a smooth skin. On the day Nada walked into The Ninth Circle, looking for jobs, he'd been feeling particularly nasty.

She'd asked him what was wrong, and he had directed her straight to Ahzrukhal. She twirled a strand of blonde hair then, Something Charon eventually learned meant that she was thinking about her time, and then she told him goodbye. He hadn't taken much notice of her until the next day, when she simply approached him and ripped his contract in half, telling him that he is now his own person.

He had no caps to repay her with. He had less than no caps, Ahzrukhal was taking everything he'd ever gotten on his "expeditions" outside Underworld.

"If I could just follow you?" he found himself offering. "I don't want to be in this shit hole anymore."

She shrugged. "If you want. You make your own decisions now."

"Are you sure?"

She didn't answer him, she just simply held out her gloved hand. "Nada."

"Charon." He shook the offered hand, secretly glad that it was gloved. He'd honestly haadn't touched a smooth skin in a very long time, and it kind of unnerved him.

And so they'd travelled together. Charon never cared too much where they were going, he just wanted to get as far away from Underworld as he could, and that was fine because Nada didn't seem to have a plan. She would just look at her Pip-Boy and go in whichever direction, helping anyone who needed it - or she would do mercenary work; after all, they had to buy ammo and food somehow.

He'd asked her once why she was so generous all the time, and wondered if she had done something terrible in her past that she needed to make right.

"My dad always told me to help those in need."

Apparently not.

Some people didn't take to kindly to her, however. When not in her usual power armor, Nada just simply wore her Vault 101 jumpsuit. People would whisper about her as she passed or would smirk, because they thought that was her way of saying 'I'm better than you'. He found himself scowling whenever someone insulted her or refused her service because of her vault jumpsuit, but she never seemed to care much.

"I kind of deserve it. My vault never takes in outsiders," she told him.

Charon would always hunt game for them, and then insist on cooking it for her. She would gather herbs or berries and he would try to remember what his mother taught him about combining them to make a decent meal. Nada never asked him to do anything, but if he was being honest with himself he felt like he was taking advantage of her.

Her cheerful personality aside, Nada was actually quite fierce in battle. She fought with a Shishkabob and Death Claw Gauntlet showing no mercy, showing no fear. She also liked to wear a set of Brotherhood armor when they weren't in town. He wondered if she was a member of the Brotherhood of Steel, but she never mentioned it, and she never did anything for the Brotherhood, besides wear their armor. Which was kind of a relief, he didn't stand on equal terms with the Brotherhood.

But Charon found himself indebted to her, even though he was sure Nada would tell him he owed nothing to her. But he owed her everything. From the leather boots on his feet, to the caps in his pocket, to the new strength and cunning she had taught him. He just wanted, just once, to make his friend feel like she's lucky to have him. Something more than someone to share conversation with and an extra pack to carry things.

"Are you sure it's safe for us to be down here? I mean, it's a vault, I'm sure they won't like outsiders, especially a ghoul."

"I'm sure we're fine. We won't cause any trouble."

"We're looking for something down here, aren't we?" Charon asked a little while later, as Nada examined a strange control panel next to the huge vault door, lining up the levers very carefully.

"It's for an old woman," she told him, stepping back with a satisfied look as the door slid to the side. "Her great-great-grandmother's sister used to live in this particular vault. Here, read this," A small piece of paper printed out of her pip-boy and she handed it to him.

"So, this is Vault 92," he said as he continued to read. "Are we selling the violin?"

"Of course not," Nada shook her head and regarded him with thoughtful eyes. "She really needs that violin."

"Why? A violin like that could feed us and keep us stocked for weeks."

"Yeah, just a few weeks. But she needs this violin more than we ever will. Look," she looked him dead in the eyes. "Just trust me on this, okay? We're more well off than most, and she'll get more use out of it than us."

A breeze, cold and smelling of death, ruffled through Nada's hair. She situated her gauntlet and unslung her Shishkabob, "Are you coming?"

"I'm right behind you, but I've got a bad feeling about this…"

Charon's feelings of pessimism did not waver as they ventured through the cold, dark halls of the vault. They had just entered the Sound Testing section when a door slid open beside them to reveal a mirelurk. Nada had already started striding toward the creature, raising her shishkabob to strike.

"What the fuck?"

They were approached by three of the beasts, two hunters, one king. Charon ducked to the side as the king sent out a sonic beam, but the king did not care for him. Nada stumbled backward as the beam found its target, and he heard her grunt as she thrust a stimpak into her neck and she ducked behind a tipped over table.

Charon picked one of the mire lurks at random and pulled the trigger on his shotgun. To his complete surprise, the creature pulled down its head for protection, just as Nada had stood up and dispatched another one.

Encouraged, Charon decided to take a blow at the king. It barely seemed to react as the shotgun shell buried itself into its neck. Nada could run and dodge like nobody he'd ever seen before, she bounded from cover to cover like a hare, shishkabob and gauntlet swinging madly. And again, another mirelurk fell dead. Another hunter had appeared behind Charon. He had no time to draw his combat knife; which he wasn't that good with anyway. He fired point-blank, thinking at the back of his mind how amazed he was that he didn't freeze in terror, for the way the hunter looked at him was one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen.

And yet this horrifying vision was eclipsed by a large crab claw in his sight, covered in dark blood, as it had lost contact with his torn up chest. The hunter had attacked point-blank as well before it had died, tearing through his armor. Charon staggered, dropping his shotgun as he reached for a Med-ex.

He raised it to his chest with trembling fingers when something huge had crashed into him, sending the valuable syringe tumbling down the corridor.

Nada.

She dragged him behind a corner, and they huddled out of sight.

"I can't get near the king," she said, fumbling around for a stimpak. "Don't look. It'll hurt more."

But of course Charon looked. And he grunted loudly as she slammed the stimpak into his chest.

"What did I say? Is it better?"

She didn't wait for his answer. "I think there are two mirelurks left and the king," she told him. "If we try and attack him, they just swipe their claws at us." She risked a glance around the corner and a sonic beam streaked past her nose. "We're trapped."

"I need my shotgun," Charon said.

She turned back to him, "No need to worry, I'll get it. Just stay here."

Charon's heart got stuck in his throat as she sprinted out of cover. She was braver than he could ever be. He would try harder to be brave for her. He was a mercenary. No, he was her companion. Come on, kid, he told himself. She tripped, grabbing the gun from the floor and quickly took cover behind another table. He saw her white teeth as she smiled.

She slid the gun across the floor and he stooped to pick it up. He held his breath, placed his finger on the trigger, and broke out of cover. Keep moving, Charon, he thought as a sonic beam grazed his cheek. He squeezed the trigger, and the hunter's face exploded. Next shot, stay calm, take the other one down.

He felt a strong pain charge down his leg.

Charon forced the fear down, remaining calm. The king was completely exposed, now. He took aim.

He was out of ammo.

He felt Nada grab his hand and give him more bullets she'd collected from a quick raid of the near by rooms, and he quickly reloaded his shotgun. His bones ached furiously, shaking from the stress that was being put on them. He could feel his hands peeling; the leather of his gloves irritating the rotting flesh. He would not let her down. The king's outer shell was littered with gory bullet holes.

Then the creature finally fell, lifeless and still.

"Ah." Charon groaned as he fell on his hands and knees.

He remembered Nada rubbing his back comfortingly, and retrieving the violin and a book of sheet music from the appropriate rooms. The king's corpse had a double-barrel shotgun hiding underneath it, and Charon found it resting against his back when they had exited the vault to meet sunlight once again.

They sat on a boulder, Charon drinking a bottle of whiskey, and Nada looking over some data that they had collected from the various rooms and terminals in the vault.

He let out an exhausted sigh and examined his new weapon. "Are you sure you don't want this? It's not exactly long ranged, but it'll put some distance between you and the enemy."

"You'll get more use out of it than me, that's for sure," Nada said. "I can't aim with guns at all. My dad got me a BB Gun for my tenth birthday and I'd never figured it out. Still can't figure it out."

"Thank you," he whispered. He looked to the sun and felt the warmth on his face.

"I would've been killed in there without you," she said honestly.

He looked strangely at her. "I don't…"

"Shut up. We both know it's the truth. Besides, I'm happy to have you with me."

"I'm glad you let me stick around."

"Great, we're all happy! Enough with all the seriousness now," she laughed standing with the violin in one hand. "I think Agatha will be very happy to have this violin. Wouldn't you say so?"

Charon stood with her, throwing the whiskey bottle at the door to the vault's entrance. "She better after all the shit we went through to get that."

_A/N: Charon is by far my favorite companion in Fallout 3 next to Dogmeat. I wanted to make this a little more romantic, but it never really flowed right so I made it like this. I hope y'all enjoyed it, and please favorite, follow, and review._


	3. Chapter 3

**Tandi**

Tandi was used to seeing travelers by now; they had become more frequent, especially since the Brotherhood had arrived not too long ago. The Brotherhood made her feel safe; they were going to look after the people of the wastes, protect them from mutants and feral ghouls.

The woman with the short black hair who arrived in Shady Sands one hot afternoon was not from the Brotherhood of Steel, though she wore the armor. She was an adventurer, obviously, like something out of a legend, or the books that Tandi spent her extra caps on when a merchant traveled through town.

She smelled of steel and dirt. Freedom.

She didn't even look at Tandi as the traveler walked by her; she was there to see Tandi's father, but about twenty minutes later she was back, walking slowly and taking time out of her schedule to look at the crops that Tandi spent three hours every day maintaining.

"Hey," she said, and Tandi had nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Er, hi," she said. Say something, anything. "Are you perhaps looking for a partner?"

"What?"

Oh damn it, why did I say that? I have to keep talking now, "Seriously, think about it. Two gorgeous young women, the vast wasteland, sexy guys waiting at every motel, a fortune in caps just begging to be claimed…" she trailed off feeling her face become boiling hot as she blushed.

The traveler stared at her for a few awkward moments before throwing her head back and letting out a hearty laugh. "I like your enthusiasm! What can you do?"

"Well, I can cook and clean," she started, "Oh, I can farm, but I guess there won't be much use for that if we're traveling. I can patch up your clothes, and I have a wicked punch," she demonstrated on empty air, "Ian grabbed my butt one time when he was drunk, and I knocked him out for three hours!"

"Well, I suppose that I could always use a student, and a little company. I'm leaving Shady Sands tomorrow, early in the morning. Meet me at the entrance if you really want to travel with me. I'm Alice, by the way, but you can call me Ali if you want."

Ali just winked and strolled off in the other direction.

With her eyes stinging, Tandi packed away her life's savings, a knife, an extra change of clothes, and a leather jacket into her backpack before leaving late into the night. She suspected that her father would be upset, but she didn't care; opportunity was knocking, and her life awaited her.

Ali was staying at the doctor's house and was easy to find, however when Tandi had arrived she was nowhere in sight. Tandi sat outside the door, waiting for Ali's return, and eventually fell asleep. When she woke up, she saw Ali standing over her and she could smell rat meat cooking in the doctor's house.

"Man," Ali said, "So, I guess you've made up your mind, huh?"

Shady Sands was still mostly asleep when they left; only Seth stood guard at the entrance, and the air was still dreadfully cold.

She was so happy, she felt like her heart might burst.

The happiness didn't last forever, though. That sort of joy was too big to live for long in one heart, human or mutant, and surviving was difficult work. Tandi was no stranger to difficult work, and she cooked meals, cleaned armor, maintained weapons, washed their clothes, and scavenged for supplies, not once complaining. But Ali was determined to teach her other skills as well, and Tandi felt her stomach churn as she skinned and butchered animals, and Tandi found it hard to hold up a pistol with one hand.

But even that didn't seem to bother her, even though every night she tumbled into her sleeping bag with an aching back and arms and slept as if she were dead.

Adventuring was also very dangerous. Ali didn't ask Tandi to accompany her when she delved into the sewers or a vault, but when she was left outside all alone, her pistol clutched in her calloused hands, waiting for Ali to come back, Tandi almost wished she had been invited. It would often grow very dark outside, and Tandi would hear coyotes howl, or worse, and every second that ticked by made Tandi worry that Ali had in fact met her end.

She always returned, though, sometimes bloody and bruised and sometimes, more often than not, would arrive much later than intended.

"That was bigger than I thought," she'd usually say. Then they'd go through the loot, and Tandi would be given the task of counting the caps and disassembling weapons for parts. Ali would give her a small cut of the findings, and Tandi would comfort herself by imagining what she could buy with all the caps she'd saved.

And then there were the nights when they actually weren't on the road. They stayed at Motels mostly, and it was then that Tandi would finally get a night off to relax. Only it was hard to relax whenever drunk people were carousing all around her and prostitutes were out doing their business. Ali seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, but Tandi actually missed her small town of Shady Sands.

And there was a distinct lack of sexy guys that weren't stinking of booze, too old for her, or face-first in the tits of a prostitute.

"I thought we'd find a ton of hot men looking for a woman to be their companion," she confided one evening over the background noise of a drinking game.

"Honey, if you want a hot guy, you're looking in the completely wrong place," Ali said with slight amusement, "You don't need a sexy man, anyway."

But she could cope; the mornings were still hot, the different landscapes still made Tandi's jaw drop,and Ali's sly jokes kept her smiling.

Then one day, nothing was ever the same.

The green super mutant yelled out incoherently as he grabbed Ali's shoulder, lifted her up, and slammed her into the concrete. The battle seemed to last a lifetime. Tandi found herself running through Necropolis, the heat of the sun making her soaked with sweat, and her vision blurred as tears started flowing down her face. Eventually she found an open sewer grate, and fear - and Ali's excellent pistol training - helped her kill the feral ghouls sheltering within.

When Necropolis finally grew silent once more, Tandi ventured out into the gathering dust.

Ali was standing in front of a dead super mutant, plasma rifle held in one hand and the other one grasped firmly around something that Tandi couldn't see.

"Ali?" Tandi called softly, "Are you okay?"

She turned around and let out a deep sigh. "I'm so glad you're fine, Tandi." Ali opened up her fist and looked down at the blue water chip. "I think it's time to stop joking around."

"The water chip?" Tandi raised her eyebrows, "God, you're the Vault Dweller!"

Ali shrugged, "That's what they call me, at least. I was kind of hoping it would all just disappear."

They travelled a bit further to get away from the bloody scene before setting up camp. While Ali used a doctor bag to bandage up her shoulder, Tandi prepared dinner. At least, until she found herself weeping salty tears into the soup.

"Tandi?" Ali looked up.

"Ugh, I'm sorry." She got to her feet and stumbled away from the campfire, wiping her cheeks dry. Stupid, stupid idiot.

She wanted to run away, she could hear Ali standing up to follow her, but her fear of what might lurk beyond the firelight kept her within the clearing, her head bowed as she tried not to cry.

"Tandi, this isn't like you. What's wrong?" Ali asked.

"I can't do this!" Tandi said, "I can't kill, let alone fight, _super mutants_! I didn't think - I thought we would collect a few bounties and explore ruins and scavenge for loot, but you're the Vault Dweller and I'm just…Ali, I'm not brave, and I'm definitely not strong. I don't want to die out here!"

"Well, I don't either," Ali said, "Why do you think I've been avoiding all this? But my vault's going to die if I don't get this water chip back to them. But I don't expect you to kill super mutants."

"I feel like I've failed you, after all the time you spent taking care of me and teaching me."

Ali frowned for a moment, "Come back to the fire before the soup burns. Also, go clean your face; there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Wait, tonight?" Tandi asked, "Out here?"

"You'll see."

Now becoming curious, Tandi did as she was told and washed her face and combed her hair.

"Now what?" she asked, wondering if Ali was going to do a magic trick.

Ali grinned before digging through her backpack and pulling out an object wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it dramatically and held it up.

Tandi rolled her eyes, "That's just my reflection, Ali. That mirror looks pretty cool, though."

"When was the last time you looked at your reflection?" she asked, "Go on, look closer."

She handed the mirror over and Tandi stared into it. She looked older. Her hair was becoming sun-bleached, and she didn't look as chubby or pale as she once had. When she looked at herself, really examined her features, she realized that she could hardly recognize herself. Something off the horizon was reflected into her eyes; the wasteland had left its mark on her, older, wiser, stronger. She smiled and forgave herself a little.

Tandi was not woken by Ali's gentle prodding, but by the sounds of the water pumping through the sewer. The sun was above the horizon, and the campfire had been burnt out. Ali was gone, and had taken most of the valuables with her. Tandi sat up and looked around her, absorbing all the sights and sounds of the wasteland.

She pulled up her boots, kicked sand over the fireplace, and tightened the straps on her backpack. The day had just barely started, and a short way down the slope, the road stretched on.

_A/N: This chapter seemed just a little off to me and I'm still not entirely sure why. It might just be me, though. I hope y'all enjoyed it all the same._


	4. Chapter 4

**Veronica Santangelo**

He didn't show up at the funeral. They held the ceremony in the yard of the Old Mormon Fort, away from the gangs in Freeside. Now more than ever, they needed the people of New Vegas to believe that the Courier and his followers were strong and would protect them when they liberated Vegas, so they all mourned in private. Veronica didn't even think anyone knew of what had happened.

Sadly, too many people out there would celebrate the death of one of the Courier's companions, even two such honorable people like Cass and Arcade.

Veronica didn't blame him for skipping out on the speeches; as they were both liked by many, everyone said everything about Cass and Arcade. Given the solemn nature of the occasion, there was no moderator there to give them a gentle nudge when they needed to wrap it up.

But the final prayers? Why didn't he at least show up for those? Veronica found herself looking around the yard, craning her neck to see if that lanky, awkward man was lurking in any of the corners.

"What's up, Veronica?" Raul asked, trying to follow her gaze.

"Do you see Cem anywhere?" she whispered back, "He should've been here. I mean, he-" But she didn't want to finish or think about that sentence. But she knew that he definitely should've been there, and she was a little pissed off that he wasn't.

In the end, she didn't cry. She respected Arcade and Cass and what they did, but she didn't know them well enough to become emotionally attached. Lily did, though; big fat tears that she palmed against her face, and her wails of sorrow bellowed out across the yard.

Personally, Veronica was glad when the service ended, and the four remaining companions walked back to the Tops Hotel.

"So, listen," Raul said, "When ghouls die, we throw a party because we live a fucking long time, and it's great when we finally die. So, does anyone wanna go out and get some drinks?"

"Raul, Cass and Arcade weren't ghouls," Boone said, "I'm going to bed early. Maybe we'll go out tomorrow."

Veronica simply shook her head at Raul; she wasn't in the mood for partying either.

By the next morning, news of Cemal's disappearance had spread. The companions just stayed in their rooms and remained silent; assignments had been temporarily suspended and everyone who had friends or family wrote to them. It would be good for them to know that they were still alright.

Veronica heard repeated phrases of "understandable" and "time to mourn" between many of the companions when Cemal's absence came up. But they never really seemed so confident in their answers. No one was prepared to step up and take Cemal's place if something had happened - and Veronica was sure that nobody could do as good a job as he has.

They were going to wait for Cemal. The dashing boy-wonder who'd swept in to the Mojave Wasteland and whose discovery had started all this liberation business. Boone was too set on the NCR and Raul was starting to get too old, but Cemal was kind. Approachable. When she'd asked him to take her to Hidden Valley and then later asked him to help her collect technology, he'd done it without complaining or denying once.

He knew everything that she'd been through. They went out to scavenge together and they discussed ideas for the liberation, and he'd listened, always, to whatever she had to say.

And, of course, she'd fallen for him, greasy hair and lanky body and dirty clothes and all. She wanted to travel with him for the rest of her life. When he'd started learning how to use guns, she'd started to use guns as well. He'd started because he liked gunners.

He liked Cass.

Veronica didn't suspect a thing at first. She'd thought that his admiration for Cass was completely out of respect. But he never hesitated to take her out on every single mission with him, and he constantly followed her like a puppy in the Tops, constantly asking her if she wanted to go out for a drink. He always had a shy smile and a kind word whenever they saw each other.

One hot day in the Presidential Suite of the Tops, Veronica had come to realize that she'd lost the chase.

"I don't want any of you guys to leave when we liberate Vegas," he'd told the group, "I want you to stay here and help me run the place, as equals." His gaze strayed then to Cass, and Veronica realized that it was hopeless.

She glared at her oblivious friend. She wanted to berate him for basing his entire career around someone who obviously would never return his feelings.

And then she'd bite her lip, and looked down at her lap. Hadn't she been doing the same thing this whole time?

She tried to keep her distance after that, but events did the job better than she could've; Boone's psychological trauma, recon missions for the liberation, Raul dealing with his gunslinger days.

Three days after the memorial service, Veronica was woken up by a large, wet thing attacking her face. She sat up with a scream, and she quickly threw an uppercut at whatever was attacking her.

It was Rex, Cemal's cyber-dog. Rex had been a poor brainless dog at the King's headquarters in Freeside that'd grown a liking for Cemal after he'd found Rex a new brain. And Cemal encouraged the ornery creature by feeding it all kinds of different treats. Thus Rex had developed a taste for sugary things, and Veronica watched as Rex devoured her box of sugar bombs that'd been sitting on her nightstand.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned.

Rex obviously couldn't answer, and he jumped onto the bed and curled up against her leg. His fur was surprisingly damp; she could smell and feel that much. He'd been outside and in some water. For a split-second, she'd wondered if Cemal had come back, and she threw off her blankets and quickly dressed to go and find him.

In vain. He wasn't in the Tops.

When she'd gone up to the Presidential suite, Boone was there rubbing Rex's belly and making him do tricks in exchange for some radroach meat.

"Cem's not back yet," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, "So, why is Rex here then?"

"He sends Rex back here sometimes," Boone explained, "When he thinks he's going somewhere too dangerous for a dog."

"Holy shit. I know what to do. Rex!"

The cyber-dog raised its head excitedly.

"Can you find Cem for me? Find Cemal. Find."

Rex barked.

"I'm gonna grab my power fist," Veronica said, "I'm sick of this. I'm going to go out and find him."

"Do you think you'll need any help?" Boone asked as she threw healing powders and some stimpaks into her satchel.

"No, I'll be fine. You stay here and cover for me if any missions come off suspension." She was positive that she was the only one who knew how Cemal felt about Cass, and she wanted to keep this a secret for as long as she could.

As Veronica stepped outside, she widened her eyes at the rarity that was happening in New Vegas. It was raining. She pulled her hood up and, with Rex at her side, she left New Vegas. The cyber-dog seemed so sure as it foraged on ahead, and she prayed to God that he wouldn't lead her to a pack of geckos or a powderganger camp.

Rex led her out of New Vegas to the southwest in the direction of the Mojave Outpost. Veronica was forced to hurry to keep up, scared she'd lose the cyber-dog in the thundering rainstorm. Her boots splashed in the puddles, soaking the bottom of her robes uncomfortably.

Eventually, Rex veered off the road, bounding through the heavy rain and barking excitedly. His destination was a beat-up, rundown rest stop, one of many that dotted the Mojave Wasteland. Veronica called the cyber-dog back; those places could sometimes be dangerous, and Cemal would never forgive her if she got Rex killed.

When she got closer, she could see a light dancing behind the dusty windows. Maybe someone was inside? She powered up her fist and held it in front of her chest, defensively.

She stifled a scream when she nearly tripped over a squishy radscorpion corpse near the entrance. She breathed a sigh of relief, made fierce "be quiet" looks at Rex, and quietly edged inside.

She couldn't hear the clicking of radscorpion feet, which was good. Aside from the rain and the smell of an oil lamp, she couldn't hear anything at all. She tiptoed closer, watching the light on the wall for any shadows. She tightened her fist, and risked peaking her head around the counter.

"Where the fuck are you?!" Cemal's hands tightly gripped a Caravan Shotgun, Cass's Caravan Shotgun.

"Cem, calm down!" Veronica raised her hands above her head in surrender, "It's just me!"

Rex pushed past her and pawed at his master's legs. Cemal lowered the shotgun.

"Why are you here?"

"I was trying to find you, asshole. Everyone's worried about you."

His shoulders dropped and he placed the gun on the counter, sinking to the ground and bringing his knees to his chest. Now that she had the chance, Veronica looked around the small rest stop. It smelled of dirt and all the shelves had been picked clean.

"What is this place?"

"Nipton Road Rest Stop. It was infested with radscorpions, but I took care of them. Veronica, I'm okay. Please, just go and tell the others."

"No, you're not okay. If you were okay you wouldn't be…what are you doing? Vacationing here? Living here?"

"I'm not living here, Veronica. Just go away. I just," he buried his face in his hands, "It's all my fault that she's dead…"

Veronica removed her power fist and sat down on the floor next to him. She tried to get a good look at his face.

"Cem, you know that's not true. Nobody blames you. You did everything you could. Hey, you saved the rest of us from the night kin in that factory. Aren't you happy about that?"

She immediately knew that it had been a mistake for her to say that. Cemal made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.

She let out a long sigh, "Cem, honey, it's been days. You look horrible. Have you even eaten anything? Or bathed? We just want you to come home. You don't have to answer to anyone, just let them know you're there."

"Why should I?" He lifted his head and looked at her with reddened eyes. "You guys don't need me to liberate Vegas. Go find someone else."

"Yeah, sure. And we'll just let Caesar's Legion run around killing people while Vegas is left defenseless, good plan, Cemal."

Cemal just glared at her. Veronica decided not to push it for now.

"Let me make you something to eat," she said. All she could find was dust and a chunk of rotten gecko meat. "Were you seriously gonna eat this?" He just shrugged, and she pulled some pork n' beans out of her satchel. "Here. I brought my own supplies. We can share."

Cemal didn't speak. He sat in a pitiful heap, staring at the oil lamp on the floor, while Veronica busied herself with digging out bowls and spoons from her satchel.

"Here," she handed him a bowl, "Seriously, eat. You look awful." Rex got the gecko meat.

"Cass would've never wanted to see you like this," Veronica tried once they'd finished eating.

"How can you say that? You didn't know her like I did!"

"I can say what I want! Besides, you know it's true."

"Really? She barely paid any mind to me. I was just some guy to her."

Veronica could hardly believe that she was actually trying to defend Cass, "You know that's bullshit. Everyone in the Mojave Wasteland knows you're a force to be reckoned with. You've achieved so much in such a short amount of time. She had to notice and respect that."

"I'm such an idiot. I had it all planned out and now what do I do? Pinning for a woman who will never be interested in a fool like me."

"That's exactly how I feel…" Veronica mumbled.

"Wait, you've always been there, haven't you? You even went out of your way to find me, and you would've probably gone farther. I'm so sorry, Veronica. I can't believe I couldn't see that you were right there in front of me." He leaned towards her.

Veronica had never before witnessed someone lower their standards for her. Her eyes blazed and before she'd even really made up her mind, she clenched her hand into a fist and punched him right in the jaw, as hard as she could.

"What the hell?" he cupped his jaw in his hand and looked at her, completely dumbfounded as she leapt to her feet.

"You're such a fucking idiot," she said, "And there is no way that you're going to be Liberator of the Mojave Wasteland. You know…absolutely nothing about any god damn thing!" she tried to slow down the words, but they were just funneling out of her mouth, "You'll never be Mr. House, you'll never be Caesar, you'll never be President Kimball, and they fucking _hate _you. And you know what, yeah, Cass and Arcade are dead, and I don't know what to do. And you don't know what to do. And I'm so _scared_, Cem!"

Cemal was silent for a long moment as Veronica caught her breath.

"I'm really sorry," he said quietly, "Please, don't lose faith in me. I really do appreciate all you've done, and I'd like to keep you around."

She nodded. Mental breakdown over, she just felt ridiculous, "I'll always be by your side."

He got to his feet, brushing dust off his pants. "If I go back, and I have no idea what I'm doing, will you help me get my thoughts straight?"

"Cem," she took his hand, "We're all going to help you get your thoughts straight. And if they don't, as Liberator, you can sack 'em," she joked. It won her his signature quirky grin. "You won't have to do anything alone, as long as I'm alive."

He shrugged, looking as lanky and awkward as ever, and not the powerful Liberator like she knew him to be.

"It's still raining out there, huh?" he asked.

"Yep. Do you wanna wait it out?"

"No, once the rain let's up, it's gonna be hot and humid. Let's go home."

_A/N: This is how I imagine a potential relationship between Veronica and the Courier. In my playthrough, Veronica and my character met and were inseparable. Also, rain and weather. I do feel like weather should've been a thing in Fallout._


End file.
